Muir Laments the Hole in His Roof
(experiment in 10 syllables, but that is about as much "form" as I could eek out)
I awoke to abnormal light passing
through apertures unnatural in shape.
Hewn by the axe, their blows still resonate
off pillars in my forest cathedral.
Those darkening clouds portend a deluge
without pause to mingle with leaves above.
Torrents erode my primeval carpet,
sewn through eons with autumn’s fallen threads.
But John, now you can see a thousand stars.
Nothing as compared to the fire flies lights!
John, now you may enjoy flocks, clouds and blue.
Meadows give me that and butterflies too.
Hold fast to your ground my Aspens and Larch
and to the east you Ash and Chinquapin!
Let only a shimmering breeze shake you.
While the axe cuts holes in harvesting tracts,
preserve the virgin woods left in my name.
http://www.nps.gov/muwo/index.htm